


Paradise

by LifeIsDaBubbles



Series: The George West Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fucking, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Kissing, Love, OC, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Original Character(s), Porn with Feelings, Prequel, Romance, SPN Completed - Freeform, SPN Family - Fandom - Freeform, SPN Fanfiction - Fandom - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Fandom - Freeform, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester-centric, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spn fandom, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, canonish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeIsDaBubbles/pseuds/LifeIsDaBubbles
Summary: Sam has spent months hunting on his own since Dean's death following the torturous encounter at the Mystery Spot. He's started to lose hope that he'll ever find the Trickster and get his brother back. Then he meets a mysterious woman in a bar and, for just a moment, things aren't totally awful.Set during S03E11.Prequel to a larger work in progress.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The George West Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629157
Kudos: 1





	Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't sue me. I don't have anything but an active imagination.

It was Tuesday again. Another Tuesday. Sam Winchester had lived through a couple hundred of the same Tuesdays and he’d gladly live through a couple thousand more if it meant that this Tuesday was that same Tuesday again. But it wasn't; it was yet another, very different Tuesday and Sam’s brother, Dean was still dead. He’d yet to locate the trickster, but the vampire nest he’d cleared out that afternoon had helped to distract him from the neverending, soul-crushing devastation that consumed him. Unsurprisingly, now that he was back at the dingy motel room he’d spent the last few nights hunting out of, and the vamps were all handled, all distraction was gone. 

He knew Dean would be proud of him handling those vamps alone. Actually he’d probably be extremely pissed at the way Sam had risked his life, not just by going alone but also by the undeniable recklessness he’d exhibited during the hunt. Sam was sure he’d have a few choice words for him that would inevitably lead to a fight about Dean being overprotective and Sam being careless. But thoughts like these, even imagining how Dean would curse at him, made Sam happy for a split second. He’d give anything to be annoyed by his overbearing big brother again.

Carefully, he stripped off his dirty, blood-stained clothes and inspected his--remarkably minor--injuries. There was a small cut across the middle of his left eyebrow and an even smaller one across his left cheekbone, both bleeding but easy handled. He didn’t think the somewhat larger gash on his right shoulder would need stitches considering the bleeding had already stopped. Other than that and some visible bruising and scrapes, he was fine! 

See, Dean, he thought smugly as he jumped into a hot shower. As the grime was cleared away from his tan skin with his lather and rinse routine, he noticed that his adrenaline was still pumping at full speed. Typically on Tuesday’s he’d stay in bed, drinking his way through the minibar and eventually passing in and out of consciousness until it was Wednesday again and he felt hungry enough to finally move. But the slay had made him feel pumped up, strong and powerful, and he knew the motel’s minibar wasn’t going to cut it on this Tuesday.

As he got dressed in some dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt under an unbuttoned dark brown and blue plaid shirt, he thought back on the vamp killing from earlier. As he tended to his wounds with creams and gauze, he replayed the fight and mentally noted all the moves he thought Dean might have been impressed by. Also a few that he’d have “constructive criticism” for. One of the things he missed most was not having anyone to talk to, even someone as critical as his big brother. No one to commiserate with after a particularly strange, brutal, awkward, or funny supernatural encounter. He felt so incredibly lonely, especially now when he would usually have his brother to celebrate a hunt with.

Slipping on his jacket, he left the motel room quickly, as though he was trying to leave his thoughts behind, trapped behind a locked door, and walked two short blocks to the local country bar. He’d watched the place the few nights he’d been in this nowhere town and it was definitely just an ordinary, middle american, country biker bar. He figured the alcohol there would be as good as any other and that maybe some people watching would help expel the energy vibrating inside him. Hell--maybe someone would pick a fight and he’d get to throw some punches. 

Talk about making Dean proud, he thought with a wry smile.

He walked in, head low, discreetly surveying the room, locating his exits and taking note of any suspicious persons. As his eyes passed over the jukebox, he noted one young woman that was dressed a bit out of place for the bar, but otherwise everything seemed normal, quiet, and harmless. There was a very small crowd, enough that he wasn’t noticed moving around, but not so many that he couldn’t distance himself satisfactorily. 

He ordered two beers and a shot of whiskey before crawling into an empty corner booth for the night. He downed his whiskey and motioned toward the meandering waitress for another. The bar was cozy and the alcohol was kicking in, so he removed his jacket and tossed it on the seat next to him. Taking two quick swigs of his first beer, he settled in comfortably and glanced around the room once more. 

He noticed the overdressed woman again, this time with slightly more focused eyes. She was tall, yet still nearly a foot shorter than him, younger than him but certainly of age--she was in a bar after all. She had on a white, knee length dress with lace overlay, wide, lacy bell sleeves, and a demurely plunging neckline. Her extra long wavy hair was bright lavender and adorned with a white, floral lace headband. She also had a few piercings dotting her eyebrow, top lip, and nose. On her feet were dirty, old black chucks that clashed with the rest of her hippie bride motif. 

She stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of Wranglers, leather, and regular colored hair, but Sam decided that she was stunning. The thought surprised him, since the opposite sex was something he hadn't thought about in months. He'd been far too preoccupied with wallowing in his grief and hunting the trickster to even think about physical intimacy. Not that he ever had much time for it since joining the family business again anyway. So, when he'd found himself sizing her up for more than just hunter reasons, he tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. As he pondered her presence, he began to notice that she was stealing glances his way as well. Seemingly trying not to get noticed while she pretended to peruse the top 40 hits from WWII on the old dusty jukebox. 

She thinks she’s sly, he thought with an internal smirk.

She finally shoved a few buttons on the machine and Night Moves by Bob Seger--Sam guessed the only decent song available--began to play. He watched as she turned and began slowly bobbing her way over to his booth. The alcohol was beginning to kick in and the more he watched her the more gorgeous he found her. His eyes were ever so discreetly running over her long legs and wide hips, which were swaying hesitantly toward him at the moment.

She surprised him when she plopped down across from him in the booth without a word. He surprised himself when he let her. When she boldly reached over and grabbed hold of his second beer, he watched silently. 

“Thanks,” the mystery woman lifted the beer and clinked it against his without permission before taking a swig. Her voice was louder than necessary, and flirty, but also timid. Did she really just take his drink? He couldn’t decide whether he was amused or pissed; he’d wanted to drink that.

“For?” Sam asked, his tone flat. The mix of his hunting high, the alcohol, and her subtle, earthy scent was intoxicating him; the overwhelming feeling of despair that he’d felt since Dean’s death, was inexplicably dulling in her presence. Sam decided he enjoyed the relief, so he let her stay for now.

“Well,” she paused for another swig. When she leaned forward into the dim spotlight above the table, Sam took a good look at her soft, sweet, oval shaped face. She had plump dusty pink lips, round freckled cheeks that were turning a shade of pink (was she blushing?), and deep blue eyes that sparkled at him but seemed to be masking a sadness. “With the eyes you were giving me, I saw the two beers and figured one must be for me.” She raised a flirtatious eyebrow and took another swig. 

“You did?” Was all he could think to say at the moment. He could see the uncertainty beneath her initial bravery; her nerve seemed to be battling with her nerves.

Her blush deepened slightly and she shrugged, “Either way, I figured I’d take a chance.”

“Take a chance...?” Sam asked, visibly relaxing a bit and softening his tone.

“Take a chance that…” She paused and looked him in the eye, her smile fading before she continued earnestly, “that you might be hurting just as bad as I am about something you’d rather forget about for a few hours, too?” Sam shifted uncomfortably; she certainly hit the nail on the head. She’d also noticed he was making eyes at her, which made him kick himself. Drinking in public had been a mistake, obviously he was slipping...or was she just good?

Taking a drink of his beer, he said with the same flat tone, “I got news for you: in a bar like this, most of the patrons are going to fit that description. You on the other hand,” Sam paused and furrowed his brow at her when she downed the second shot that the waitress had just set down for him. Then finished flatly, “don’t.” 

“Another round, please. And a moscow mule. You can put this all on my tab - last name Gordon.” The waitress nodded and smiled politely, before walking off. “What do you mean?” The woman was addressing Sam again.

“I mean, you don’t exactly fit in here,” He gestured to her and then around at the other country bar patrons, all of whom were dressed far more casually and were far less colorful. She looked down at herself with a teasingly surprised look.

“What? Troll doll bride isn’t all the rage with Keith Urban fans?” 

“Keith Urban?” Sam guffawed. “Try Ted Nugent. And even he might be too liberal.” The woman frowned and looked around the bar. She certainly did seem to be garnering a few looks here and there from the far more gruff looking crowd.

“Hmm, I guess I do seem to be sticking out a bit. Garnering attention from some gruff patrons, I see.” She shrugged and got up from her side of the booth, a nervous look on her face. He thought she was leaving. Before he could react, she slid onto the bench next to him and leaned her body in close. Slipping a chunk of silky, pale purple hair behind her ear, she murmured, “Good thing I’ve got you to protect me, then.” He could tell that the alcohol was making her more bold and it was kind of turning him on. 

Just then the waitress came around again with two more whiskey shots and a moscow mule for her. She leaned back a little, picked up her shot, and held it up to him with an expectant smile. He could feel a strange anger bubbling up inside him as this woman began stirring up emotions he hadn’t experienced in months--years, probably. He didn’t deserve to be sitting here, flirting with her while Dean was gone and he could be out doing something about it. 

He picked his shot up, let her clink hers against it begrudgingly, and downed it with her. After they finished swallowing, he quickly leaned into her. Invading her space almost uncomfortably, he met her eyes and asked, “What if I’m the one you need protecting from?” Maybe if he scared her she’d just leave.

She kept eye contact with him for a moment, gulping and searching his eyes for any hint of danger, before barking out a slightly drunk laugh, “Sorry. Are you supposed to be threatening? Because I’m here to tell you, you’re far too boyishly handsome to be scary.” She placed a hand on his shoulder before sliding it down his arm, feeling the muscle underneath. “But if that kinda thing turns you on, I could always pretend. It’s just sex,” She was trying to come off as wild and sexy, but Sam could tell by the look on her face that she was barely holding back her emotions.

Something compelled him to cover her hand with his and ask, “What’s hurting you?” She frowned and gulped suddenly, looking down at their hands together. His concern was surprisingly comforting, but this kind of intimacy wasn’t what she’d been looking for. She just wanted to forget for a while and being raised by television had taught her that the best thing for forgetting was alcohol and meaningless sex.

Sensing her struggle, he used a finger from his other hand to gently push her chin up to meet his eyes. Without thinking, he leaned down and placed an unexpectedly deep kiss on her trembling lips. The strength she felt from him calmed her and when he pulled back she let out a deep, emotional sigh. 

“I was supposed to get married today,” she finally admitted. In a sudden flurry of movement, she reached for her drink and took a gulp of the refreshing, citrusy cocktail. She considered ordering another shot but took one more quick sip and sat back instead, setting the drink down.

“H-how old are you?” Sam was surprised to say the least. It certainly explained the outfit, but boy did she seem way too young to be getting married. Although, he was in Smalltown USA.

“Just turned 21,” She gave a wry smile and lifted her drink up into the air in a mock toast before taking another large gulp. Then she blurted it all out, unfiltered, “We were high school sweethearts; he proposed on prom night. Planned on doing the long distance thing for the first two years of college--which turned into three because he’s a selfish idiot who couldn’t successfully major in his own opinion--while we saved for the wedding. Things were picture perfect. After we graduated high school, he and my best-friend-turned-maid-of-honor attended the same university three hours away while I stayed local. Community college was cheaper and allowed me to save for the wedding.” Her jaw clenched, cheeks beat red with anger, “I was transferring this fall, so that we could finish our last two years together as newlyweds.” She let out a hiccup after another gulp of her drink, wiping a few fat tears away that had finally managed to escape. 

She paused and gave a curious sigh, shaking her head, “you know, I didn’t see it coming at all, but now thinking back...it makes total sense that they were fucking behind my back the whole time.” Sam gave an “ouch” face and she nodded solemnly. 

“Neither of the cowards had the ovaries to tell me anything until 20 minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start.. six hours ago. I was dressed and ready--early!” She seemed to really want credit for that, so Sam nodded as though he understood, “--to walk down the aisle and marry my ‘soulmate’” the look of adorably embarrassed disgust on her face made Sam smirk before he could help himself. He quickly took a swig to hide it, “when I heard my maid of honor start wailing in the hallway. I went out to see what was going on and the bitch confessed--in explicit detail--right there within earshot of the entire church.” She slumped down and shook her head defeatedly. 

Before Sam could react, she jerked and sat straight up again, raising her drink hand into the air, “Oh! and by the way? When I say I ‘just turned 21,’ I mean literally. Not only is today my wedding day, it’s also my birthday.” She mimed clinking another glass in the air before gulping down the rest of her drink. 

“Jesus,” he groaned sympathetically, running a hand over his face. He suddenly felt guilty for his earlier behavior and scooted away from her slightly, “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about being a jerk earlier and for kissing you like that. You’re clearly in a lot of pain right now; the-the last freakin’ thing you need is--”

She grabbed his collar and pulled him back toward her, lifting her face up close enough for their noses to touch, “Thank you, but I’ll let you know if your advances are ever unwanted.” 

With a gentle tug, his mouth lowered onto hers and they kissed again. Where their last one had been emotion-filled, this was all libido. Sam felt her hands rub roughly against the skin of his neck as her tongue flicked across his lips. Opening his mouth and meeting her tongue with his, he obliged. Their tongues wrestled blissfully for an eternity before they finally came up for air. 

“Promise?” He semi-joked with a slight pant. He wanted to be sure she was comfortable with this. 

“Hmm?” She murmured, still recovering. When she tried focusing on his face, the sincerity in his eyes reminded her of the ‘unwanted advances’ comment. “Oh! Yes, promise,” with a sweet smile she nodded. 

With the confirmation, he took a deep breath and dove back down to her lips. She tasted like sour mint mixed with whiskey, which just happened to be his new favorite flavor. He was surprised at how welcome a distraction she was. Whether it was the comparatively trivial romance problems, a relief from his usual apocalyptic, life-or-death ones, or her intoxicating taste, he didn’t know but he was drawn to her. He wanted more, but needed more privacy than a lightly crowded bar would provide. 

“Hey, did you keep the ring?” He asked, pulling back from the kiss suddenly. He had a spontaneous idea that he thought might cheer her up and was decidedly less cramped. She blinked at him and sputtered a little, still recovering from the sudden loss of warmth on her lips and thrown off by the--very personal--question. “The engagement ring? Do you still have it?” He pressed and she bit her lip, considering him for a moment. 

Reaching into the top of her dress, she retrieved the gaudy, yellow gold, very modest, pear shaped diamond ring and held it up to him. 

“Oh, it’s hideous,” He fake gagged, covering his mouth with his fist jokingly. When she laughed, he gave her a cat-like grin and gently wiped away the few more tears that fell down her cheeks. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye he stated matter of factly, “It’s perfect.” Then, he pulled out his wallet and tossed some bills on the table before grabbing his jacket and shifting out of the booth slowly. 

She took the hint and got up, nervous to see if they were leaving together or if he was just leaving. She waited patiently to follow his lead, trying to psyche herself up to avoid acting too disappointed if it was the latter. When he stood up from the booth and held his arm out in a charming, silent request, her heart skipped a beat. She grinned, sliding her arm around his and they headed toward the exit. When they passed the bar together on their way out, they stopped for her to close the tab.

“Can I cash out the tab for Gordon?” She asked the first bartender she could flag. They nodded, walked to the register, and then came over to her with the card, a pen, and the receipt.

“Is Gordon your last name?” Sam asked, resting an elbow on the bar and running his hand down her back. He regretted asking the personal question as soon as he did it. He didn’t even know her first name! This was obviously just a one night drunken fling, what was he doing?

“Was supposed to be,” her exaggeratedly chipper tone made him laugh a little. She finished signing quickly and grabbed the card, slipping it seductively into the top of her dress. He was wondering what else she kept in there when she grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the door. “Ex-fiance Fuckface forgot that he gave me his card to pay the caterer this morning while he took the evil-stick-figure-with-no-soul into our honeymoon suite for one last hoorah! So, drinks are on him tonight!” She held a finger up to her lips and started giggling uncontrollably while Sam guided her toward the impala, laughing at her drunken state.

They drove about 20 minutes out of middle-of-nowheresville U.S.A., before he pulled off the highway and then drove another 10 out into the open desert. They made congenial small talk as they drove and, though under normal circumstances she should be terrified of the situation she’d put herself in as a young woman, she couldn’t have felt more at ease sitting in that car with this wounded yet charming, funny, and incredibly hot stranger. 

I’m sure that’s what they all thought about Ted Bundy, too, was a fleeting thought before the alcohol drowned her fear and she sat back comfortably in the passenger’s seat. She was brazenly giving him the once over with a sexy smile as the two of them chatted mindlessly about UFOs (the setting was fitting) or whatever the fuck. 

When Sam finally stopped the car, he’d pulled up next to an area where the rocks began to get larger and larger as mountains were formed in the distance. He aimed the high beams at a cluster of large, waist high boulders set about 200 feet away from them. “You ready?” He questioned with a smile. He exited the car before she had a chance to answer and she followed him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Uh,” she looked around at the dark desert that creeped toward them around the car. She shivered suddenly at the unexpectedly chilly air, “Ready for what?” He was standing at the trunk and fiddling with the keys to get it open. “Whoa,” came her amazed reply when the door swung up and she laid her eyes upon an impressively terrifying amount of guns. 

“Look, up to this point I wasn’t afraid of you but...I have to admit this is starting to make me a little nervous.” He chuckled at her and reached inside. When he pulled out a large handgun she couldn’t identify--not that she could identify any handguns--and tried to hand it to her, she shook her head. “Why?? I can’t hold that thing! I don’t know how!” 

“Use your fingers,” Sam suggested with a tease, making her roll her eyes and take hold of the heavy weapon. 

“Erg. What am I supposed to do with this?” She asked, a hint of disgust in her tone. Sam looked at her irritated posture and the exaggerated disgust on her face and grinned in amusement. 

Suddenly, Sam blinked and it was daylight. The warmth of the sun on his skin startled him and when he jerked his head to look up, he squinted in shock at the unexpected pain. This was weird; had he had a seizure or something? Was he dreaming? Lately, pain was his default setting but, other than the stinging in his eye, he wasn’t feeling any. He realized then that he felt nothing but love and happiness; pain wasn’t even a thought unless he did something stupid like look at the sun. 

He looked down at himself and noted he was in essentially the same outfit, except a lighter brown plaid and rolled up sleeves. Then he looked over to where she’d been standing and was surprised to find her still there. Instead of the wedding dress though, she was now wearing a flowery patterned sundress and cowboy boots. Her once purple hair was a beautiful, beachy blonde color, pulled back in a messy ponytail and all her facial piercings were gone. Instead of a gun, she was holding a fishing rod and a dirty tackle box; she had the same annoyed posture and grimace on her face.

Sam smiled when he recognized his young wife’s jokingly huffy attitude. He knew she loved outdoor adventuring with him, but she also loved how he reacted to her prissy, city-girl act. When she’d get overly annoyed at some laborious-yet-required task for accomplishing whatever their activity was for the day (“Chop wood?? Why? How?!”), he instantly transformed into teacher mode. He enjoyed teaching his “reluctant” student all kinds of new life skills. He loved feeling like a caregiver and she loved being taught; all that oozing masculinity, as he explained how to pitch a tent or build a fire or whatever else, was a huge turn on. He was so passionate about imparting knowledge and his unorthodox upbringing left him chock full of helpful life skills. She’d always loved that about him; he was her strapping young boy scout.

“Well??” She whined with a laugh, shaking the items gently. “What do I do with these, Dude?”

“You fish with them,” he said before closing the trunk and leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the lips. 

“OK, Mr. Smartass,” He’d taken the rods and tackle box from her hands and she gave him a playful shove.

“Wouldn’t that make you Mrs. Smartass?” He replied with a cheeky grin and her cheeks turned a lovely, ruddy color as he teased her. 

“Can you please remind me why I married such a frustrating man?” She begged, looking up toward the heavens with a smile. He crouched to quickly set the tackle box and rods down on the ground and then stood up tall again. One arm wrapped around her waist to pull her close. Sliding another up her back and into her hair, he grabbed a fistful and gently but forcefully brought her lips crashing up into his. 

“Hello, Guy?? Dude Who Handed Me A Gun, hello!” Sam snapped out of his strange vision, blinking in confusion. He was once again in the dark desert, stars dotting the sky, guns in the trunk instead of fishing rods. The warm glow of the sun and the love he’d felt were nothing more than a fantasy now. The woman in front of him once again had purple hair, a white dress on, and a glock in her hand. She also looked not-so-jokingly perturbed.

“Uh, sorry...I thought this place looked familiar for a minute,” he said slowly.

“Yea?” She asked with a smirk. “You’re right. I think I’ve picnicked next to that cactus bush behind you.” 

He jerked back to inspect the bush before realizing she was being sarcastic. “Funny. My mind must have wandered off for a moment, I--” 

“Well now that it’s back, can it please explain why it drove me out into the middle of nowhere and handed me a gun?” She held it up with a limp wrist and a nervous face. “I’ve never held a gun in my life! I don’t really think I’m qualified.” 

Sam mentally shook himself of the strange vision and smiled at her before closing the trunk. Gently taking the gun from her grasp with his left hand, he then engulfed her now empty hand into his right and began guiding her over to the lit up boulders in the distance. He paused briefly to grab a blanket and an empty beer can from the backseat.

Once they reached the boulders, the top halves of their body were in a much dimmer light than the bottom halves. She looked around expectantly, if not slightly nervously, and he reached out his hand, “ring, please?” She gave him a thoughtful look, and a curious once over, before reaching into her top and pulling out the ring again. She looked at it carefully for a minute, and then met his eyes, which were kind and reassuring, so she placed the ring in his hand. 

He picked the flattest boulder, which was just about waist high compared to her, and stacked first the beer can and then the ring on top. He took her hand and walked about 15 feet away, before turning back around to face the ring and held the gun out to her, butt first. 

“Target practice,” he grinned, quite proud of himself. 

“Excuse me??” She asked, as though he was crazy. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know how much that ring is worth? ...I-I’ve got bills to pay!” She trailed off slowly, eyeing the gun in his hand curiously. “Besides,” She shrugged nonchalantly, “he could still ask for it back, right? I-I mean, it’s legally his property...I’ll have to give it back if he asks...” She glanced over at the bolder, where she could just barely see the ugly, most likely worthless, ring glistening at the top of the can. “Probably wouldn’t even be able to hit it if I wanted to...” She met his eye with determination and raised an eyebrow. Crossing her arms, she pouted a little and exaggerated a slightly whiny pitch to her voice, “Besiiiides, I’ve never shot a gun! I don’t know how.” 

He blinked at her curiously. He couldn’t help but find her helpless act incredibly sexy.

“That’s why it’s called ‘target practice,’” He said with patience and a charming smile. He laid the blanket out on the ground a safe, yet entertaining distance behind her--in what Sam dubbed “the safe zone.” Then came back to her, looking down at the dirt in front of her and making a line with his toe, he proceeded to walk her through all the steps to get prepared for shooting a gun; safety, foot placement, posture, grip, cocking the gun, pulling the trigger, etc. 

Despite how many drinks she’d had, she was the perfect student, listening attentively, asking great questions, and trying her hardest to implement his instruction and corrections. Finally, when she felt ready, Sam walked to the blanket and sat. There was an excited smile on his face as he motioned for her to begin. 

“If only you had some popcorn,” She rolled her eyes at him with a smile and a hand on her hip. Shaking her head, she moved into position; feet planted, shoulders back, arms steady. He watched, intrigued and semi-poised to leap out of the way just in case anything went wrong. The gun was so large she had to use two hands to hold it and she almost had to use two fingers just to pull the trigger. The recoil from the weapon's discharge caused her wrists to snap back with a surprised yelp. Thankfully Sam already warned her about that so the gun didn't go flying and hit her in the face. Her shot missed of course, but she at least hit the rock. Sam was impressed. He was similarly impressed when she adjusted her grip on the weapon, shifted her stance a bit, steadied her breathing, and fired again, this time more confidently. Despite her gumption, however, she failed to hit the ring; though the 11th shot did hit the can. Still, she gave a frustrated foot stomp. The bullet had sent the ring flying and she was sore that she didn’t get a chance to actually hit it.

“Maybe you had too many of my shots,” Sam teased sympathetically. 

“Ha, ha,” She stuck her tongue out and walked over to the blanket. “Maybe part of me doesn’t want to actually hit it, because it knows how much trouble I’m going to get in if I do,” She joked in a dejected tone, as she plopped down next to him. Handing him the gun carefully she smiled, “Thanks though, that definitely felt cathartic.” 

“Want me to shoot it for you?” Sam offered gently, safely tucking the gun into his pants and out of the way. “You can just say you were robbed?” 

“Robbed by the most handsome man in America?” She teased. “At least 30 people saw the smolderingly hot, impossibly tall stranger leaving that bar with the purple haired freak. Give them two minutes with a sketch artist and we’d be done,” She wasn’t exactly making sense, but she spoke quite seriously as she slid a finger across her throat. Listening to her silly, empty threats and watching her animated, drunk self throwing her hands around menacingly as she teased him made Sam genuinely happy in small spurts. 

The moments were fleeting, a smile here, a touch there, a laugh, a tease, a wink; they lasted milliseconds and then the pain was back again, but when they happened it was like a drug. It made him realize how long it had been since he’d felt anything other than pain; sometimes sharp pain, stabbing and specific, sometimes dull pain, aching and all over, but constant all the while. He needed to keep dulling it, and he noticed it dulled most whenever he was able to elicit a genuine, positive reaction from this beautiful, vivacious stranger. He craved more.

Suddenly, Sam’s pain was completely relieved; his heart was filled with joy, and the sky above was bright blue once again. The sun was beating down on the newlyweds’ humble, yet sturdy campsite setup. They were laying together on the picnic blanket he’d set up next to the cactus bush near the car. She was feeding him fresh sliced strawberries from one of the tupperware containers full of food that surrounded them. Her hair was blonde again, french braided into two braids on either side of her head, and she was wearing a white ribbed, biker tank, tucked into dark blue capri jeans, and nike hiking boots. He was wearing a white cotton t-shirt, some 405 jeans, and athletic cowboy boots; his long hair was slicked back, a little wet on top like he was trying to cool down in the heat of the desert. They looked like the perfect, young, all-american newlyweds, taking honeymooning as an opportunity for an adventure in the great outdoors. 

“Hey, where’d you go, Scout?” She teased with a smile, catching his eye and popping a blueberry into his mouth. He grinned; he felt so deeply in love with her, he couldn’t believe he’d ever been scared of marriage changing things. Being married to her had changed things, for the better in a million ways; life was even sexier, funnier, happier, infinitely more wonderful and amazing.

“Nowhere, Mrs. Winchester,” He dropped his voice low and reached an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He moved his other hand up to cup her cheek and pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” he murmured to her after their kiss. His fingers tugged at her tucked-in shirt as he planted kisses softly along her jaw, aimed for her ear. 

“Mmm, Love,” she moaned in a warning tone. “It’s the middle of the day and we’re out in the open.” He’d finally pulled the fabric free and his warm fingers touched the cool skin of her waist, slowly moving upwards. “Don’t be startin’ somethin’ you can’t finish,” she growled as he nibbled on her neck in just the right spot. He knew his wife’s body inside, outside, and upside down; he knew just how to make her react.

In a blink, things were dark again, the nagging, constant sorrow had returned, and the mysterious purple haired woman in front of him--who he thinks may have been talking but damn if he hadn’t missed every word--was shifting up onto her knees with a sly grin. She reached behind her back. Sam’s eyebrows raised as his ears heard a distinct, metallic zipping sound.

“Wha--” Sam choked out before she could unzip no more. Then she grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it up and over her head. His mouth dropped open at the sight of her nearly naked body in front of him. With the dress gone, the only thing she had on was a pair of white lace boy shorts and a matching white lace garter around her left thigh.

“Wow,” He breathed with a quick exhale. 

“Yeah?” She asked with a shy smile. She looked down at herself and shrugged mock-helplessly, which caused her beautiful, round breasts to jump, “I was going for horny-newlywed?” 

“Nailed it,” He approved with a nod, liking his lips. As he took in her beautiful body and outfit--can you call that an outfit?--Sam stiffened quickly.

When she looked up at him again, she held her hand up to the side of her lips and mockingly whispered with a wink, “oh and I also asked for the ‘bridal brazilian’ package at the spa, shhhhhhh!”

He eliminated the distance between them in a swift motion and captured her lips with his. The kiss was hungrier than he’d initially intended. Their first kisses at the bar hadn’t phased him like this; he felt like he was touching a live wire. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed even just the company of another person, let alone their physical touch. And forget about actual intimacy.

His fingertips felt like they were on fire as he traced them up and down the silky, naked skin of her hips and sides. The feeling gave her goosebumps and made her nipples impossibly hard, causing her to moan loudly. The sound was familiar to him, exactly like in his visions, and it was stirring something inside him. He quickly broke away from her lips and began kissing a hungry pattern toward her ear and down to that same spot on her neck. 

The melody of the moans and gasps he found he could elicit from her made Sam hard as rock. It also felt like a giant shot of pure oxytocin to his brain with each new sound that fell from her lips. It made his heart feel light, yet full, like someone filled it with helium and there was a chance it would float away at any moment. He explored her body like a hunter catching prey; he’d run his lips over a spot near her shoulder and she’d relax into the overall pleasure of his presence. Then, he’d move toward her collarbone, where she’d tense and whimper with the flick of his tongue. 

He’d spent approximately six and half minutes exploring the areas of every stereotypical erogenous zone with his fingers and tongue when she came suddenly with a surprised curse. He placed the nipple he’d been tasting between his teeth and pulled his lips back with a pleasurable groan as he felt her soak the fingers between her legs.

“‘hamn, a’rreddy?” The sharp feeling of his teeth while she was mid-orgasm made her cry out as she rode another unexpectedly large wave of pleasure. 

“Oh my god!” She laughed joyously as she recovered. “Is THAT what it’s supposed to feel like?” She covered her face with her hand as she panted.

Sam started, “Are you--” gently sliding his fingers out of her panties, he sat up straight. He gulped and looked at her nervously, suddenly realizing just how innocent 21 could be in Smalltown, USA, “Are you a virgin?”

“Nah,” she shrugged, sitting up on her elbows, “just...it’s never felt like that before. It’s mostly been a lot of awkward fumbling and thrusting that somehow feels uncomfortable, yet… underwhelming, if ya know what I mean. It’s also usually much shorter than that…sorry if I was taking too long,” her earnest apology baffled him, but her inexperience and the color pink her cheeks were turning were incredibly distracting. This woman was unintentionally pushing some deep-seated buttons and he wanted to dick her but good.

“Boy are you in for a rude awakening.” With a grin, Sam traced a finger gently along the inside of her thigh and she shivered, “and that was just my fingers.”

“Well, shit,” she breathed as the smoldering eye contact he then gave her made her uterus do a cartwheel. Her expletive made him chuckle.

“Listen, my hotel is 15 minutes from here,” He started as he reached over to the edge of the blanket for her dress and helped her get it back on over her head. “Would you like to come back to my room where we can get a little more comfortable?” He reached behind her with his long arms and grabbed the zipper she was struggling with. He placed a soft kiss on her lips until he was done zipping and then pulled back and gave her nose a soft nuzzle, “I’d love to show you a few more things.” His voice was oozing sex and her eyes rolled in pleasure as goosebumps covered her body. 

“Lets,” was all she could muster with an enthusiastic nod. Sam pulled her up to standing and grabbed up the blanket, before yanking her back to the impala. He swept her into her side of the car, after tossing the blanket in the back, and then practically ran around the back of the car and dove into the driver’s seat. They sped off in the direction of his hotel and she was abuzz. She couldn’t sit still and kept swinging her knees back and forth, open and closed, and rubbing her hands up and down her thighs anxiously. He was having trouble keeping his eyes on the road with all of her movement. Unfortunately he could see very little with his vantage point, no matter how far forward he tried to sit. 

She noticed him watching her finally and, though startled, her confidence soared. With a barely contained grin, she slowly began inching her dress up her thighs until the garter was fully exposed and the edge of her panties were peeking out from under the hem. Sam groaned and reached over to grab her knee firmly, giving her a strong, almost desperate squeeze.

“Oh shit!” She shouted suddenly, turning her whole body to look out the back window.

“Again?!” Sam asked, jokingly, his hand still on her knee.

“The ring!” She pointed behind them futilely. They were now about 20 miles down the road and almost to his hotel. She knew there was no way they were going back for it, but couldn’t help but feel a nagging sense of regret. She might end up paying for that. Looking back at Sam and feeling his fingers begin to slide down the plump, soft skin of her thigh, she shrugged, “Oh well.” She turned back straight forward in her seat and sighed, “do you think it’s hard to escape out of handcuffs? Just in case I get arrested for stealing the ring, I’m wondering what my options are.” 

“It’s easy. I can teach you,” Sam offered with an excited expression. He pulled into the hotel and squealed through the parking lot, finding a spot close to his room.

“You have handcuffs?” She laughed in surprise until she remembered the arsenal in the trunk. “Ah, the armory,” She pointed and they nodded together with matching smiles, “and you know how to get out of them?” He cut the engine and got out of the car, coming around to escort her out. “Well, well, well,” she mused as he led her to the door of his room, 15 feet away, “you must be handy to have around. Like a dangerous boy scout.” 

The door swung open as she finished her teasing. She stopped when he jerked his head back curiously. The look in his eye was ravenous and she took an unconscious step back before he snatched her wrists and pulled her against him, kissing hungrily. Without breaking their kiss, he led her backward into his room and kicked the door closed behind them. He pressed her up against the wall just inside and broke their kiss to beg in a hushed whisper, “say that again.” 

“Whuh?” She panted, brain foggy, “handcuffs?” she gulped as he shook his head quickly and began fidgeting with the zipper of her dress. “Dangerous?” more frustrated head shaking and tugging on the fabric. “Boy scout?” He kissed her with renewed vigor pausing his zipper struggle to curl his fingers in her hair and tug gently. She smiled against his lips--bingo. When he pulled away to start kissing her sensitive collar bone, he redoubled his efforts at removing her dress. She draped her arms over his shoulders and curled a few fingers in his hair. With a purr, “mmmm, would you like to break out the cuffs and teach me a skill, boy scout?” He huffed as loud as an angry bull and ripped the back of her dress open, tearing the fabric straight down the middle and causing her to let out a yelp of surprise. 

As she moved slowly away from the wall, the dress began to slowly fall off her arms and away from her chest in disrepair. She covered her mouth and let out some quick, startled laughter, “dude you ripped it with your bare hands!” 

“Sorry! I... I’m sorry!” Sam apologized quickly, concerned that he’d gotten overly caught up in the incredibly arousing moment.

“Sorry?! Shit, that was sexy as hell,” she grinned wickedly at him, wiggling the sleeves off her wrists. She hooked her thumbs inside the bottom half of the dress and her underwear to slide them off her hips but she was stopped. 

“Could you--” Sam had reached out and touched her wrist gently, giving her a soft but pleading look. “Leave the panties on? For now,” he shrugged a little, suddenly uncharacteristically shy. She gave him a curious smile, pausing for a moment, and then nodded flirtatiously. Adjusting her thumbs, she slid only the dress off her hips and it hit the floor. 

“Like this?” she asked sweetly, stepping out of the discarded fabric and kicking it aside. She placed her hands on her lace covered hips, posing sweetly for him. He sat down on the edge of the small, barely queen sized--was probably a double--bed in the room and ran his eyes over her appreciatively. A would be bride on her would be wedding night standing nearly naked in a dingy, shitty motel room about to have one time meaningless sex with a stranger. She doesn’t even know his name. This wasn’t fair to her, but she was mesmerising him and he wanted her badly; unless she asked, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop now. 

He ran his hands over his face, overwhelmed in the moment. He felt the shift happen when his shoulders felt lighter and his heart swelled. He waited a moment before opening his eyes, trying to guess what she’d look like when he finally did. He was somewhat shocked to see that the only difference was her missing piercings and blonde hair. It was still dark out and she was still standing in front of him, hands on her hips, in the same underwear and garter adorning her hips and thigh. Sam spotted a modest ring on her finger that hadn’t been there before and his thoughts flashed to the ceremony earlier that day. 

The sexy smile she was giving him, was suddenly replaced with a look of concern and she moved toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, you OK?” When she reached up to wipe his cheeks, he realized that a few tears had dropped from his eyes while he’d been looking at her. 

“I just…” Her closeness made him reach for her reflexively and he spread his legs, pulling her to him. Placing his hot, emotional face against the cool skin between her breasts he took a deep breath, breathing her in. She smelled like arousal and also that fragrance she liked that smelled like roses and fresh dirt in the rain. 

He’d mentioned to her that it reminded him of a cemetery once and she’d agreed enthusiastically, “me too. It makes me think of peace and quiet, which is something I desperately need in my life.” He wasn’t sure about all that, but there was something strangely comforting about the smell. 

The feeling of her hands beginning to rub his shoulders comfortingly pulled him back to his thoughts and he looked up. Meeting her piercing, murky-blue eyes he finished, “I’m just happy to be here. With you.” She blushed a little and bit her lip with a smile, moving her hand to run her fingers through his hair. 

“I know what you mean,” She replied, though he was sure there was no way she could possibly understand. These strange, painfully happy visions weren’t real and pretty soon she wouldn’t be his wedding night bride any longer. She would simply be a woman in pain, looking for any comfort she could find. And his circumstances wouldn’t be much different. He’d give almost anything to stay here, where he meant something to her and he had someone who meant something to him; they both deserved better. 

He was practically clinging to her and she began to move very slowly and rhythmically side to side in his arms. His tight grip wasn’t allowing her to move much but she kept her rhythm as she began to hum softly and slide her hands up and down his shoulders firmly. When Sam recognized the sweet, soft tune she was humming and swaying to in rhythm, he instantly began to relax. It was Lullaby, by The Chicks. One of their songs. 

At the moment he couldn’t remember how it had started, but humming was her way of easing his mind when she could tell he was worried about something; sometimes big things, like that promotion at work or whether he’d hear from his dad or brother this christmas. Sometimes little things too, like if the dog was going to die in the movie they were watching. It always made him feel so at home and peaceful; it filled him with emotion, love, and appreciation for her. 

He unwrapped his arms from around her body, allowing her to move more freely, and looked up into her sweet, beautiful eyes. She swung her hips from side to side in a slow, lazy motion, humming into the bridge now and running her fingers softly over his face. She began placing feathery kisses around the edge of his face and a few more tears slid down his cheeks at the love he felt. In the back of his mind he could feel a growing anger at knowing it wouldn’t last, but he told it to shut the fuck up, so that he could enjoy this. 

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” She murmured in between kisses. “I’m more than happy just laying with you.” He didn’t deserve her but he couldn’t bring himself to care while her nearly naked body was between his legs. 

“It’s our wedding night,” He replied in a deep grumble, pulling himself together and beginning to place firm kisses along her clavicle as she stood up straight again.

“It is,” She sighed, her voice suddenly deep with arousal, “but that’s--” he cut off whatever it was that she was going to say with a kiss. Standing up, he lifted her up with him and wrapped her legs around his waist. He turned around so that he was facing the bed, and then climbed onto the mattress on his knees. He was only able to keep upright long enough to get both knees on the bed before they toppled backward onto the mattress together, laughing. 

They naturally positioned themselves on the bed with her on her back and him on his side, half on top of her. He pulled himself together and quickly began kissing her again. She responded enthusiastically and grabbed him, tugging frustratedly at all his clothes. When she started to unbutton the fancy silk shirt he was wearing, he tickled her gently under her arms causing her to pull back them with a quick shriek. With a shudder, she felt full body goosebumps and her nipples swelled slightly. She grabbed at his belt eagerly and was able to get the two ends unattached before Sam grabbed her hands and pressed them against the bed, pulling away from the kiss gently. 

“Excuse me, miss,” He murmured with a smirk, playfully nuzzling her face while she struggled against him. “I’m a married man.”

She shifted her hip and rubbed firmly against his stiff manhood, causing him to falter and allowing her to wrench her wrists free. She threw all her weight into a lunge that rolled them over onto his back with her straddling him. “That’s right, you are married. To me,” She growled, thoroughly enjoying the look of surprise on his face. His hands reached to grab onto her and she slapped them away, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt with both hands, “and your wife wants you naked, now.” Before he could react she tightened her grip on his shirt and flung her hands open. There was an echo of tiny *pop* sounds and buttons went flying as she ripped open the dress shirt and vest. 

“Damn,” Sam breathed after a moment of shock. “Yes, ma’am!” He ripped the torn shirt and vest off, tossing it across the room and then grabbed the back of his white undershirt and tugged it up over his head. He sat back and she shifted forward, placing a passionate kiss on his lips so that she could teasingly rub her naked chest against his. Whenever her nipples scraped across his skin it sent jolts of pleasure through her body. 

Finally she placed a hand on his chest and pulled back from the kiss, holding him still so he couldn’t follow her. Then she reached down, grabbed onto his undone belt buckle and began pulling quickly. 

“Ah, ah, ah! Hey, Wife” Sam said pointedly, as he grabbed her wrists and laughed a little. “Hold on a minute!” As the belt came loose of the loops and fell away to the floor, he pulled her hands up and swiftly flipped her back over on the bed, “Lay down. I want to make sure you’re taken care of first.” He smiled proudly and gave her a sweet little kiss on the nose. 

“Awe,” she smiled back just as sweetly, “that’s great. Take off your fucking clothes, now!” She reached again for his pants and they laughed together while she pleaded loudly, “part of getting me off is seeing your gorgeous body! I’m your wife, now,” she tried to demand, but it sounded more like a beg, “I’ve earned it.” As she pulled at his pants, Sam noticed her eyes grow dark and she looked at him almost menacingly, “you’ve made me wait three long, tortuous years. It’s time to let me see you.” Sam hadn’t realized how aggressive his new bride was going to be on their wedding night. He’d pictured a timid, shy, inexperienced virgin but instead a ready-to-express-her-pent-up-sexual-energy virgin was laying almost nude before him, and it was making him incredibly hard.

When they were first dating and he found out she was a virgin, he knew she was the woman he was going to marry and decided he wanted their first time to mean something. He asked her if she would be willing to wait until their wedding night to make love and she’d agreed at the time, but both of them had come to regret that decision at various points in their relationship. It seems she’d grown tired of waiting and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold out either. Especially not with her begging.

“How about if you just take off your clothes, so I can look? I promise I won’t touch!” The desperation in her voice made him groan and nod, suddenly panting. He stood up off the bed and she let out an excited squeal, positioning herself against the pillows comfortably. She was grinning from ear to ear at him, an excited look on her face like a child about to open their presents on Christmas morning. He couldn’t choose between laughing at her and being incredibly aroused, so he just tried to concentrate on undoing the button and fly of his wedding jeans, before bending down and yanking all the rest of his clothes off in one swoop.

“Whoa!” Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped when he stood back up straight again. His tall, tanned, large, muscular body was finally naked before her for all her viewing pleasure. It was far better than she ever could have imagined. Everything about him was definitely large, which she hadn’t been that surprised by considering she’d felt it plenty of times through his clothes. But being able to see it--er, him, in all his adonis-like glory made her mouth water. She sat up on her knees quickly and gave him a pleading look when he took a step back, “Does licking count as touching?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, his cock twitching involuntarily at the question. Maybe this had been a mistake; the hungry look she was giving him was weakening his resolve and if she kept begging to do such naughty things to him, he was going to lose it. 

A small moan escaped her lips at his movement and she swallowed hard, “what about sucking?” 

“Fuck me,” he mumbled before throwing himself at her, pushing her back down on the bed with a hungry kiss. He landed between her legs and she wrapped them tightly around his hips, feeling his hardness pressing against her panties. She bucked her hips against him, to which he nibbled at her lip and growled. He’d wanted to take his time and pleasure her for a while before they had sex but her eagerness was making everything incredibly hard--pun intended. He pulled away from the kiss after a moment, catching his breath and trying to refocus on his mission.

He moved to her neck and ear, planting kisses and nips before whispering in her ear, “I really want to taste you, but you’ve got to stop rubbing against me-argh-like that!” He’d meant for it to sound demanding, but it turned to more of a whimper when she’d started rocking her hips. His words made her shudder and she had some difficulty controlling herself enough to reluctantly unwrap her legs from his waist and lay still.

He let out a grateful sigh at her mercy and gave her a quick, firm kiss, “Thanks.” She giggled at his businesslike tone and then moaned when his hands engulfed her large breasts and he kissed down her sternum toward them. 

As his warm, wet mouth covered the sensitive tip of her breast, her fingers dug into his soft hair involuntarily and she asked, “is this OK-Aaahhhy?” His tongue had begun dancing across her nipple when she’d asked for clarification about the no touching rule.

“It’s perfect,” he replied, rubbing a thumb against the now wet skin where his mouth had been. “I just needed you to stop touching more sensitive things,” with a smirk he placed his mouth back on her breast and resumed his attention. She allowed herself to enjoy his playful research for a little while; he was rubbing, touching, licking, biting, sucking, and kissing different spots across her chest, neck, and diaphragm to find sensitive areas and test her responses. He was very attentive to her sounds and always made sure to pause for a moment in the best places to test different levels of pressure or technique to see what other noises he could wrench from her.

When she began to feel the wetness between her legs dripping down her skin uncomfortably, she shifted her leg and began pressing her calf against his hard manhood. He grunted and jerked a little at the feeling, squeezing her breasts tightly. 

“Point taken,” he murmured, starting to kiss his way to her belly button and placing a few nips around the skin there to make her squirm. She frowned a little when he then slipped farther down her legs, to the edge of the bed and stood up. She opened her mouth to protest but he quickly grabbed her ankles and swiftly shifted her body, so that her knees hung off the end of the mattress. 

She let out a surprised yelp and began to laugh, but the dark look on his face made her swallow the rest of her laughter and bite her lip. He reached down and took hold of her left foot, lifting her smooth, garter-clad leg up to rest on his chest. He began to plant kisses in a trail that started from the arch of her foot to the middle of her thigh where the garter was placed, and ended up on his knees in between her legs. He gave her a few kisses along the garter and even one on the other side of it, before pausing with a contemplative look on his face. 

“What's wrong?” She whined; he’d been so close!

“I’m not sure,” he sighed frustratedly. 

“You’re not sure what’s wrong??” 

“I’m not sure what to do,” he clarified mysteriously.

“Uhh, OK, well just put your tongue against me and I’ll tell you what feel--” 

“I know what to do for that,” he barked out a quick laugh and placed a playful swat on her thigh. “I’m not sure what I want to do with the garter,” he pointed at it demonstratively and continued, “take it off or leave it on?” He squeezed her thigh now and made eye contact with her, “thoughts?” 

She paused a minute and bit her lip shyly. “Leave it on,” she decided finally. She lifted the gartered thigh up and swung it over his shoulder, using her heel to pull him closer to her, “that way, while you’re fucking me, you wont forget who I am.”

He let out a guttural noise and squeezed her thigh again, “Oh yea?” The smoldering look he gave her as he slapped her thigh a little harder was enough to make her gush, “Who are you?” 

“Your wife,” She gulped quietly. He clenched his teeth and squeezed once more, before slapping again. 

“Who are you?” 

“Your WIFE!” She cried out. 

“Whose are you?” He asked pointedly, sliding his hand up her thigh before reaching up to grab onto the underwear on her hip with both hands. 

“Yours--OH!” She yelped in surprise and a little pain as he ripped her underwear in half, some of the fabric dragging across her hip sharply. He quickly grabbed the other side and did the same, adjusting his hold on it so it didn’t scrape her, and then tossed the useless fabric over his shoulder. She was left bare and half-spread open before him with her leg still draped over his shoulder. He licked his lips at the sight of her. 

“That’s right,” He murmured. She watched him look at her appreciatively and then make eye contact and command, “my wife.” It wasn’t very loud but the amount of authority he threw behind it made her shudder involuntarily. She knew better than to question him about it, that was for sure, not that she’d had any plans to. 

He lifted her leg and adjusted it further up on his shoulder so that he could move his head closer to her center. He’d thought about drawing this out and teasing her for a while, but when he’d noticed how wet she already was, he decided he couldn’t wait that long to be inside her. So, instead he immediately dipped his tongue in between her folds and flicked it over her clit, while rubbing his middle finger gently against her inner lips and entrance, up and down. The gasping noise she made as he began with vigor spurned him on and made him growl.

He reached the arm that was under her leg up around her hip and placed his thumb and index finger on either side of her labia, before moving his fingers open so that her lips spread wide for him. His mouth latched onto her clit as one finger began very slowly and gently entering her. As he stretched her open with slow, gentle strokes she writhed against the actions of his mouth, which were very quickly driving her toward her first matrimonial orgasm. When he slid a second finger inside her her hands flew to his hair and gripped tightly, thrusting her hips against him with fervor. 

“OH, god! Sc-scout, I--Oooohhhhhh,” She couldn’t finish her thought because her orgasm crashed down onto her unexpectedly. She began bucking her hips and moaning incoherently as his fingers kept thrusting into her and his tongue circled her clit. “N-N-Ooooohhhh fuck, OH FUCK! Ah!” Just as her orgasm was subsiding, Sam curled his fingers upward, pressed his tongue flat, and began sliding it over her swollen clit. It felt painfully good. Her hands moved from his hair to the mattress as she braced herself on the bed. The firm, curled fingers thrusting quickly in and out of her wetness were making her hips lift up off the mattress, half of her trying to get away, half trying to get closer. A stream of curses flew out of her mouth as she tumbled nearly too quickly into her second, leg-shaking orgasm.

He pulled his mouth off her and slowed his fingers to a stop when she began frantically trying to pull away from him. He planted kisses along the lips of her pussy and rubbed her thighs as she panted and moaned her way through the come down. 

“Oh fuck, that was amazing,” She sighed finally, giggling a little in embarassment at her display. He grinned at her from between her legs, still kissing and rubbing her intimately. He kissed and licked his way up her body slowly and came to rest, laying between her legs while placing a long passionate kiss on her mouth.

He’d expected her to be slow to recover and planned to just kiss until she was ready, but she wasn’t having it. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he could feel her throwing her body against him in, what he could only assume was, an effort to flip him over. He broke away from her lips as an uncontrollable laughter overtook him. “You’re so adorable,” he cackled, kissing along her jaw toward her ear. 

“It’s--not--fair!” She grunt-whined with every shove. “I’m already--two orgasms--in!--I’m low on--energy--grr!” While she continued to sort of wiggle against him, his laughter slowly died away. 

He nibbled and kissed at her ear lobe a bit before whispering, “If you’d like to get on top, all you had to do was ask.” Sam grabbed her hips tight and in an instant rolled them over so that she was laying on top of him. She let out a yelp and then a laugh at his speed and strength. 

“Perfect, thank you!” She placed a quick peck on his lips before moving her hands to either side of his head and pushing herself up. She then carefully shifted her legs so that her knees were aligned with his hips and shoved herself into a fully upright position. His hands went to her waist, holding her up but allowing her the freedom to move into whatever position she wanted. 

His cock was impossibly hard and as her body shifted away it sprang up after her. She stifled an aroused giggle at the visual and wrapped her hand around his length; she was practically gushing at the mere thought of this cock finally filling her up. Three years of no sex hadn’t meant that she didn’t get opportunities to feel and see him every once in a while. She knew he was well endowed; between very frequent, very physical makeout sessions, some very infrequent dry humping sessions, and the night of their engagement when she’d talked him into using their hands on each other, she knew. 

And she was ready. She shifted her hips so that she was positioned hovering over his long, hard cock and began rubbing the head along her dripping wet folds to help get him nice and slick. The second his hard member touched her, she shuddered, goosebumps forming all over her body. Biting her bottom lip in concentration, she placed him at her entrance and gently lowered herself down. His hands quickly slid down to her hips, squeezing tightly as he let out a groan. 

“Oh fuck me,” he grunted behind clenched teeth. His entire body was tensed up as the initial pleasure of her tight, wet pussy enveloping his large member overwhelmed him. 

“I am!” She teased breathlessly as she shifted her hips down with a quick jerk. 

“Ah!” Sam hissed and squeezed her hips tighter. She had a fleeting concern about the potential for bruising, but it was erased from her mind as Sam ran his thumb over her clitoris. Her hips shifted involuntarily in response and she sunk lower down on his engorged cock, causing them both to curse in pleasure. 

“Wait! Stop!” She practically screamed at him when his thumb brought her to the brink of yet another orgasm. His hand froze on her and he gave her a confused eyebrow. She leaned forward and placed a passionate but short kiss on his lips. “Let me enjoy this dick for a minute, please?” She begged him with pleading eyes. He growled at her and then closed his eyes tight, nodding slowly. She smiled and sat back up straight, taking a deep breath and sliding herself the rest of the way down his length. When she was finally completely full of him, she tossed her head back and sighed in contented pleasure. Her pussy felt like it was pulsing, swollen and dripping on his hardness.

She gently placed her hands on her breasts, squeezing and rubbing her thumbs over her nipples. Sam could barely watch but couldn’t look away. After a brief pause to enjoy the fullness, she began lifting herself up to the tip of him. As she found her rhythm, Sam focused all his concentration on anything but the pleasure that was resonating throughout his body. He wanted to let her experiment and find what she liked but it was all he could do not to empty himself inside her. Watching his wife’s gorgeous, writhing body on top of him as she used his hardness to pleasure herself, was such a turn on for him that he was struggling nearly as hard as the night he lost his virginity. 

Sam took notice as her thrusting became more and more erratic. When he looked up at her, he saw her head lulled forward, bottom lip pinched tightly between her teeth, her chest heaving as she panted. He could tell she was close to her orgasm but losing her steam quickly. Letting go of her hips, he grabbed her waist, lifted her up slightly, and held her still. Then, using his grip on her for leverage, he began thrusting up into her fast and hard. 

“Oh, yes! Make me cum, Boy Scout,” she cried out as her third orgasm, which had been slowly spreading throughout her body, threatened to burst with every one of Sam’s hard, determined thrusts. She fell forward, hands on either side of his head pressing against the mattress, letting the feeling overtake her. “Make your wife cum,” she purred in his ear while flying high toward her orgasm. 

Sam let out a low, deep guttural sound as he exploded at her words with one final, deep thrust. When she felt the first jolt of his seed inside her she gasped and it felt as though her whole body exploded. It felt like every cell was screaming and like she might actually be bursting. The room suddenly seemed as though it was growing brighter and brighter, maybe even painfully bright. They both closed their eyes tight and clung to each other as they rode through the throes of passion together. __________________________________________________________________________  
The sun was just beginning to creep above the horizon as they drove in comfortable silence. She, purple hair, piercings and all, was in the passenger’s seat--wearing a pair of Dean’s boxer shorts and plaid button downs, which had fit her better than Sam’s--with a tired, satisfied calm coursing through her. On the other hand, he was fidgety. He felt torn. This woman was amazing, and what’s more, how he felt when he was around her was amazing. All his pain and anxiety eased in her presence and he knew that feeling was about to come to an end. He was about to drop her off at her place, and then get back to his hunt for the Trickster which could save his brother’s life. Dean. The thought of him steeled Sam’s resolve. No matter how...good he felt around her, he didn’t deserve it. Not unless Dean was alive again. This was ending tonight, no matter what.

When they pulled up in front of the small ranch style suburban home, she was watching him closely; noticing that his post-coital energy seemed far more...on edge than hers. He shut off the engine and avoided looking at her. Placing a hand on his thigh, she asked gently “what’s hurting you, hmm?”

When he finally looked over at her, the warm, calming love washed over him once more and he felt the world shift into his strange new fantasyland. She looked gorgeous; a touch of date night makeup, wearing a flowy, pale pink, backless jumpsuit, and her blonde hair curled and falling wildly around her shoulders. She had a loving smile on her face and she repeated, “you ready, Scout?”

It was their anniversary; three years since they‘d gone on their first official date. She’d been a high school senior--18, birthday in October--taking college courses for credit a year early and he was a college senior, TAing for her intro to political science class. At the end of the semester, after grades were final, he asked her to join him for a coffee and the rest was history. He fell head over heels that first night--well really, that first class period but he’d never admitted that to anyone--and tonight he was going to propose. He could feel the ring pressing against his chest in his hiding spot and he was having trouble keeping the jitters in check.

“Erg--ahem--yep,” he nodded with a nervous smile, “ready when you are, Beautiful.” She was always surprised and annoyed at how quickly he could turn on the charm and how quickly it worked on her. She leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips, causing him to close his eyes and lean into it with a happy sigh. 

When he opened them again, the despair had returned and there she was looking at him expectantly, purple hair disheveled attractively from their earlier escapades. He remembered her question and frowned.

“I watched my brother die in front of me 3 months ago,” He answered finally. Shifting uncomfortably and taking his hands off the wheel, he placed them in his lap and stared at them.

“Oh,” She shrugged a little, unphased by his admission and he looked up with a furrowed brow. Placing a gentle hand on his cheek, she smiled comfortingly, “don’t worry, Sam. You’ll find Dean soon.” 

“What?” Wait, had he told her his name?

He snapped awake to the sound of his cell phone vibrating off the nightstand next to him. He was back in the dingy motel, shirtless in a bed littered with beer cans and a half empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand. He got up and checked quickly around the small room before determining he was alone and there was no trace anyone but him had been there all night. 

“What the fuck,” He exclaimed out loud after a moment's contemplation. That was truly one of the craziest dreams he’d ever experienced. 

When he checked his messages, he found he'd gotten the phone call he’d been waiting for. “Sam, it’s Bobby. I found him.”  
____________________________________________________________________

“Hey you don’t look so good, something else happen?” Dean asked, standing at the hotel door, waiting for his brother to finish packing.

“I just had a really weird dream.” 

“Clowns or midgets?” He joked. Sam’s sad mouth corner twitch was the only response he could muster, more like a grimace, and he walked toward the door. With a look of longing aimed back at the bed, he shut the light off and closed the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Big ups to my Ball Bustin' Bias, without whose love and support, I surely would have written nary a word.


End file.
